❝I had a conversation with Death, he wants you back ❞
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At the New Year's Eve party, Quincy Sinclair finds the dead body of Alfred Kingsley III. Resident golden boy and incredibly rich, his death was no accident.
By morning, Quincy sees him again...
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The house was quiet when I returned home. Dad had left the door open for me so I slipped inside and left my heels on the floor. I was glad he didn't wait up, he deserved his sleep.
I tried to be quiet while moving from the front door and down the corridor, into the kitchen. I flicked the lights on and went straight to the fridge, grabbing the carton of orange juice instantly. I would've made tea if my dad wasn't such a light sleeper, the sound of water boiling inside the old kettle would've echoed throughout our small house.
"The first time I saw you at a party was in year eleven. You walked in with a big group of girls and I recognised them all except for you. Before I even had the chance to go up to you Charlie told me to back off, he was really protective of you," Kingsley laughed. He sat at the kitchen table while I went into the cupboard to retrieve a glass.
"Year eleven was when I started going to all these parties. I had this bitch girlfriend who had just cheated on me so my best friend forced me to go with her to cheer up. I didn't think about it much at the time but I'm really glad I went. It brought me out of my shell a lot and I realised I preferred to mess around with girls and boys far more than I did dating them."
Kingsley scrunched up his nose. "Not the life for me."
I poured the orange juice into a cup and brought it to my lips to take a sip. I raised an eyebrow for him to continue. If he called me a slut, I would have kicked him out. But, he didn't.
"There's nothing wrong with it," he murmured before a smile tugged at his lips. "It's just...well, because my parents had such a kickass love story, I want my own, I suppose."
"Cute," I commented with a smirk and he waved me off.
"Anyway, as I was going to say," he heaved out a sigh playfully. "After Charlie told me to piss off, I instantly remembered that this was not, in fact, the first time I'd met you."
I walked over to the dining table and sat next to him while he carried on with the story.
"I went to Charlie's seventh or eighth birthday party and you were the only girl there. I thought you were his sister at first - Charlie and I weren't exactly friends so I didn't know his family life. I remember you were really quiet and had this weird scowl stuck to your face. Only until we started playing hide and seek did you cheer up. You stuck to Charlie's side the whole way through but you worked well together," Kingsley reminisced.
"I remember that party," I laughed quietly. "I remember you too."
He widened his eyes in amusement.
"I remember thinking who the hell does this kid think he is taking not one, not two but three party bags!"
He snorted out a laugh. "They were for my sisters," he argued.
"Sure they were," I tutted jokingly.
The light tap of rain had begun to pitter against the kitchen window. We fell into a comfortable silence, focusing on the outside and letting our thoughts fade into nothing.
